i am sick / i am holy ∙ 2023

harmony with the bugs in my bed,
bite my flesh,
i am your holy ground
the room we lay in is dark and cold,
wallpaper peels with age
the ceiling is stained from leaks unattended,
from holes in roofs, shingles torn off like fingernails in storms i can't recall
i am dizzy, the world is fuzzy
the mirror is gaunt but i'm eating, i promise
reality taunts me between the cracks of ajar doors
i see you
the shifting, nigh imperceptible
but there,
always
faces harsh and bodies long,
an audience of one, the one with fingers that scuttle like mice in the walls
leave me alone, i am sick
derailing trains of thought, head-on collision with suicidal track steppers
your blood splatters on my face, still warm
i am a palette
i'll paint your name on a canvas and hang it on my wall
and hope the wallpaper doesn't curl
and hope the leak doesn't stain
and hope the storm doesn't come